Island of Bermuda
by Forestspirit of Thunderclan
Summary: A small boy who never grew up on a island in the middle of the ocean. 100's of years past until he was found by England. The boy, calling himself Philip, became British territory. What is his life like living with this bushy eye brow man? Read to find out. (Has a lot of references, and some of the Revolutionary war in America. Will be a series of One-Shots with Bermuda's History.)


**I Don't Own Hetalia**

**Intro**

**Bermuda**

Sea blue eyes gazed out over the blue waters; he could see it men coming by boats. But, a strange feeling of fear came from them, and his young boy did not feel the need to interact yet, he would watch them. Dunking down by the tree, he watched from afar, wondering who these men were. But, he felt very frighten by them, they talked in such weird ways, and he could not understand them.

Words were shouted as the jumped out of the boat and onto the low water shores. The boy blinked slowly, and watched quietly. The words made no sense to his ears, they sounded like letters pressed together. He could make out syllables and sounds that words and letters would make, but nothing that registered as a 'meaning' in his mind. He watched the men begin to go and take looked around.

Thus he turned to his friends and nodded, following them back to his make shift house. His feet pounded on the grassy floor and sand covered dirt. He jumped down to a small cliff edge to see a rock that stuck out over the large beach. It had a large rock under it and the front also had one. He slipped in through the whale ribs and tighten them back together. It was rather big on the inside with much needed space and a small cave that was big enough to fit three adults.

With cracks in the side of the wall that the boy carved out to make shelves, well, his friends helped mostly. All he remembered was he was born with basic knowledge and made a living on this small island. With clothing made from skins he made from animals he cleaned and ate.

Most would think this was impossible for a boy his age, but, he learned quickly that he had to survive, and his mind had much needed knowledge in it. Whoever was watching over him knew he'd need something when here, so they gave him friends who taught him how to survive with what little he knew. He was thankful for that much.

The best part of this place was no one would find it, not if they weren't looking for it. He stumbled upon it when looking for a good place to live. He smiled a bit and started to sort through everything, to make sure he had everything he needed for the next week or so.

He loved it here, on his small island, it was quiet, with plenty of things to do. Survival mattered to him, but also did his friends. They were wing people, about the size of his hand. They helped him find food and taught him out to make clothing better then what he had. The water also talked to him, it taught him words and phrases, also how to protect himself.

But, he had still yet to find a name for himself, often times he was called by the water. 'Bermuda'. The water said to him that at one point in time, this would be his name. As if the water knew of the future, the trees also told him this. But, they also told him he'd need a 'human' name.

But, he'd yet to find one that sounded good. Perhaps in the days coming, he would find one. It had been many moons since he woke up here on this island. He was now at the age of 7 moons and knew a lot of thing people don't know of until they are of adult age.

"I should not trust them. They do not seem friendly." He told my friend, it was a large wolf with two yellow eyes. This wolf had once had a pack on the island, but they kicked him out. He took care of him as a request from the elder tree here. Since then, he has been his friend.

"What do you think, Tray?" he asked, the wolf, Tray, growled and nodded slowly. It was amazing that this wolf knew that the boy was saying to him. He smiled back and nodded also.

"Let us be careful."

From then on days passed. Bermuda would often watched the men, looking scared around the camp fire. He began to pick up on small things that they muttered. Such as one that the water said was.

'Island of the Devils.' He found this rather rude of them to say about him. It was just the warthogs in the night. Nothing so bad, he had gotten used to them. Over the days he then picked up on a name one of them said to someone.

'Philip.' it seemed to have a nice ring to him. So that's when he began to call himself. Philip. Since then, he had seen men with different sails come in, two of the same. The first men called themselves. Spanish. The others were Portugal men, but Philip did not know what these words meant. So, he called them by that group name as the trees told him.

But, after a moon had passed, their visit began to thin out. Until Philip grew tired of watching them, and went about his days with caution and little interest in them. He also noticed something, he never grew with his ages of moon. He was always so small, only about the height of someone at the age of 7 moons. And he knew over at least a 100 moons had passed. Many of his friends came and went, but his friend Tray always stayed with me.

The water told him this was becasue he was his friend and wouldn't go until he did. Philip did not know what the water meant by this. Only that time went on, and he and Tray never aged at all.

One day, when collecting roots to eat, he noticed a ship coming. he did not know what it was, only that the water guided it here. Perhaps this was the man he was waiting for. He'd just have to watch and see.

**Read and Review for more. I was reading Island of the Blue Dolphins alot and got this idea for my first Hetalia OC story. Bermuda's look can be found on my Deviantart page. (JadeSpeedster17)**

**Also, Philip is yet to age for he has not been settled on. Also, In my mind Islands are born with a 'know how' unlike other personifications. For they live alone for many a years.**


End file.
